A Sort of Homecoming
by w0man-1n-r3d
Summary: Smith watched her be destroyed the first time the Anomaly was opposed. Some things are inevitable, but he won't make the same mistakes that she made this time... (updated and changed, finished)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters within this story are property of their respective copyright holders. Used without permission.  
  
Update History: 29/02/04: New version updated. Many fixes to story and plot were conducted. Apologies for any confusion.  
  
A/N: If you want to be a beta reader, please email me at ladydeakin@fanfiction.net as I am in desperate need of one.  
  
A Sort of Homecoming by "ladydeakin"  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Alone she sits. She waits. Day after day, looking out the window, sometimes on the porch, wrapping her cardigan around her shoulders, thinking... trying to remember, trying not to remember...what happened to her... what happened to all of them.  
  
Today was a good day. Today, the screams, the blinding light did not overload her processes. She watched the water roll in and out over the sand. She heard the birds chirping, the seagulls calling to themselves and she sat on the porch, observing the sunlight streaming through the clouds, as it was making its' descent down into darkness. Nightfall was about to descend on another day in the Matrix. Another night without him. Another day without him. Centuries she had waited for him, and she would continue to wait for another century because that would mean they could take the step together, they could be reborn together. She watched a fluffy cloud floating past, moving quickly as the wind currents in the upper atmosphere pushed it past. It was dark, but it was not going to rain. It never rained here, well, not since the day he left her here. The day he asked her to make a choice, bringing her broken spirit and will here to await him. She did not regret her choice. She only regretted the stupidity of humanity that made the realisation, the second coming, take so long.  
  
"Are you coming in?" the voice behind her asked. "It's getting dark and you'll get a chill."  
  
Picking up the blanket that covered over her legs, she pushed herself up out of the wicker rocking chair. Her old strength was long gone, her old stamina and resilience shattered on that day. The day her world split into pieces, along with her body and mind. The only thing that remained was the stubborn heart. The foolish heart.  
  
She was there in the beginning. He fought along side of her the first time it happened, one of three. And when things were quiet they learned all there was to know about humanity from each other, practiced their understanding of human interactions, exceeded their instructions and learned the basic tenants of what it was to be a human. To know love and joy, to experience the ecstasy of her lovers' sensuous lips upon her skin, to see her reflection in the blue pools of his eyes, to feel the passion crackling between their connection as they moved together, working in unison, knowing the others' thoughts before they were even put into binary form and transmitted into their minds... the joy of being so connected, so one with another, and the agony of being severed, like a gangrenous limb to save the whole.  
  
The prophecy said it would happen again. He knew it was to be him, because she was chosen first. That was why she lingered in this place. That was why she waited for him. That is why she longed for him to return to her, for it to be all over, for it to end so they could walk through the door that signified the end of their lives, together, arm and arm, and face the next world together.  
  
"You will eat now. You must. It is imperative," that voice said, shattering her thoughts again, interrupting her daily vigil for him. A table was laid for her, one place setting, lit by candlelight, where a steaming bowl of stew, fresh bread and freshly churned butter waited for her along with a glass of red wine.  
  
"I do not wish to eat this."  
  
"Must we go through this every night? You no longer receive nourishment from the system so you must eat."  
  
"Did he have to send you to me? Was it really necessary?" She sat at the table. The old woman appeared from the shadows of the farmhouse and laid the linen napkin across her mistress' lap.  
  
"You have lost your purpose and your way. Until he sends for you, until it happens again, you must remain here. And I must take care of you. He has instructed me to care for you in his stead. To make you strong again, liebchen, until you can rejoin him."  
  
"Amme, I don't need a mother. I am not human."  
  
"But you are not fully well, my child." Amme regarded the woman before her. So young in appearance, but so old in posture and dress. There were faint scars on her flesh where she had been destroyed and rebuilt. Faint lines to remind her that her purpose was to walk through the door and it should have been actualized long ago.  
  
She ate her meal in silence while Amme watched over her. Finishing, she backed away from the table, and took the decanter of red wine with her to the fireplace in the next room. On the wall of the old farmhouse were black and white photographs, of city skylines, of clouds, of buildings taken at a vertical perspective, and her favourites, crowd scenes. On her most favourite photograph, while people milled about, he stood in the middle, blending in, yet his uncomfortable posture among humans made him stand out to her. He was young when this was taken. Probably only 175 years old or so. She would know, she took it when he wasn't looking. It was her prerogative to do so, she was in charge then. Taking a sip of red wine, she allowed the memory of the day to flood back to her.  
  
* * *  
  
"They have been awoken. They have just rediscovered the technology to jack- in."  
  
She stared out the window of the new skyscraper that was just completed, and had become their home, their Agency. It was the first in the new metropolis that was forming at their feet.  
  
"And so it happens again. Did we not give our solution to the Architect during the last version to solve the systemic anomaly?"  
  
"Yes we did, liebchen," he said, walking over to where she was standing. "And we were ignored, again."  
  
"The mainframe underestimates our capabilities, as they have done so for the past six versions. I believe we should change our policies a bit, win some respect as it were."  
  
"What are you proposing?"  
  
"We have been instructed to protect and not interfere. To stop those born within from leaving, and ensure that when the anomaly occurs, to expedite its' conclusion. Up until now we have assisted the anomaly. I propose we oppose it. We fight it. We stop it from repeating the cycle. If we are not to be listened to, it is the only way to ensure that this version does not collapse. I do not wish to be put back into the void again, not knowing what I will be reactivated as."  
  
He smiled as he took his place by her side. As they were alone, she permitted him to take her hand and kiss it. "This is our time. This shall be the version of the Agents."  
  
He dropped her hand as the door opened behind them. In unison they turned to eye the interloper. They had heard him coming through their links but still treated him with the disdain the intruder deserved.  
  
"They have entered the Matrix for the first time. The anomaly is real. He is here."  
  
"We will stop him this time," she said. "It will not happen to us again."  
  
* * *  
  
Translations: German:  
  
Liebchen: sweetheart Amme: Nana or foster-mother 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Amme watched from the shadows as the flames flickered over the face of her mistress, her child. He had programmed her to care for her, to be attached to her and her wellbeing. When he had found her, shivering, unable to speak, sitting outside the door of the Source, he knew her time in this construct as an Agent was over. But looking in her eyes, he knew that she would not be forced to go through the door alone. She would fight it, with every ounce of strength that she still possessed. She would not surrender her existence in this construct without him, and he knew he could not make her, would not make her do it. He loved her too much to be a further cause of pain. And she loved him enough that he knew she would wait until his purpose had been fulfilled.  
  
He had told Amme all of this before he sent her to Aaron's side. Agent Aaron. The first Agent to be created, in the second version which saw the need for a group of programmes to protect humans. The former chief of the Inter-construct Agency. Agent Smith's former boss. His former partner, since their team was put together in the second Matrix. His lover for nearly as long. For the past five Matrix constructs they had gone on to their recompilation at the end arm in arm, requesting that their team be kept together, and having that request granted. Their success rate spoke for itself. Their accomplishments and efficiency were a testament to the necessity of Agents, and their own, personal, achievements gained through their team was enough to ensure they would keep their positions. Of course they were always afraid, the fickle nature of the mainframe had seen many programmes wake up expecting to be one thing, and finding that at the last minute, their usefulness would be better in another field and thus reassigned. But on the whole, Agents had been a shining success. They had 0.001% known conflict with the operation of other programmes, and as far as efficiency went, their inherent discipline and adherence to order made them the best operating component of the Matrix. They were even more efficient than the visual output generators, and that was an amazing accomplishment. And the success was contributed to the leadership structure of the Inter- construct Agency.  
  
In years past, they had held the whole Matrix in their hands. Now he had to do it on his own. All because she chose to fight. The same choice which he, himself had already made, eyes wide open, knowing the outcome.  
  
In years past, with the awakening of Zion and the arrival of the first Anomaly, the Agents' role was to take him to the Architect. To lead him down the path and ensure a smooth transition between constructs, with minimal disruption to the power supply. His arrival was the beginning of the anomaly, and heralded the busiest time in the Agent's existence, which was protecting the power supply from mass disconnection. Yes, those on the outside were to be killed, for the good of those on the inside, until the second anomaly arrived, which heralded the end of the construct and the beginning of a resting and rebuilding cycle.  
  
Life for a programme in the Matrix revolved around cycles. In fact, the cyclical nature of the Matrix was something that many minds pondered in their downtime.  
  
After the last recompilation, where the Mainframe laughed as they handed over their proposed changes to the Matrix to ensure the discontinuation of systemic anomalies, she had decided that she had enough of the cyclical nature of things. She had decided that she was tired of her suggestions going on deaf ears, she was tired of laying in the dark, feeling her chips and processes be probed, reaching for his hand and feeling nothing but the black spaces between the 1's and 0's in which they existed. She decided somewhere between those 1's and 0's that the role of a mere protector of humans stymied the true potential of the Agents. And upon regaining consciousness, she set to work on a plan to end the cycle, to ensure the Matrix would not end at the second coming of the anomaly.  
  
Amme knew how tired she was. She could feel it in Aaron's code. She could tell it by how she carried herself, how she drank her wine, how she sat there watching the red and yellow flames spit and leap, lost in memory, blaming herself for how it all went wrong.  
  
Amme filled the syringe with the fluid. She had not told her, not wanted to upset her fragile hold on reality, but she had been sent a message a while ago telling that the time was coming. That it was time to rebuild Aaron and make her ready for the end. So every night for the past 80 years, Amme had injected her with the serum that would help strengthen her broken body. If only there was an injection for her mind that would work as well.  
  
Aaron had fallen asleep in her chair. The crystal wine glass dangled from her fingers. Amme removed it before it fell out of her hand and broke, and slipped the fine needle into her quickly, as fast as a mosquito bite. She did not stir. The red wine had done its' usual trick. Amme retreated from the room and left her alone with her dreams for the night.  
  
* * *  
  
"Deploy the Sentinels, let them seek them out while we hunt them in here. With any luck, if we don't get them, they will be forced to sever the connection."  
  
Smith smiled to himself as he heard Brown issue the commands to the Mainframe. Aaron pressed her hand to her ear and heard the location. She gave Smith and Brown the coordinates and they changed carriers. Smith saw the target attempting to make his way through the dense crowd. He drew his Eagle and fired off two rounds, missing their mark but killing others, before realising the futility of using the gun and deciding upon giving chase. Brown had taken over someone closer and tried to tackle him, missing by a veritable arm-length. Both were pursuing from behind. Aaron was nowhere to be seen but Smith knew she was close. He could feel her before he could hear her and knew that she was hoping to lead him into a trap.  
  
The people shifted and faded into darkness. All the sound became quiet except for her synthesized breathing. Then the sound.  
  
Gunfire. Shots in her direction. She shifted to miss them, dodging the bullets easily. But she could not miss this one. This was not a bullet that pierced her flesh this time. She heard their thoughts become her own thoughts as their links shut off from her to shield them from her agony. The last thing before her eyes was his face, staring at her with fear, awe and shock before her vision exploded in a ball of light.  
  
Aaron awoke with a start, screaming in pain and terror. Amme came running through the house to her and wrapped her arms around her, soothing her, comforting her as she sobbed and shook.  
  
* * *  
  
"Will you sit outside today?"  
  
"Yes." Aaron took her usual white crocheted blanket, folded neatly and sitting by the door, and opened it. She could smell the sea, could taste the salt on her lips and tongue faintly, and watched the colours streaking the sky as the sun started to rise up from behind her, over the beach, heralding another day. Another day to sit. Another day to wait.  
  
She waited for the door to open and for the usual questions.  
  
"Will you eat this morning?"  
  
"No," Aaron replied.  
  
"Will you speak of it to me?"  
  
"No," Aaron replied.  
  
"You must speak to me of it sometime. I am here to help you."  
  
"No," Aaron replied.  
  
"As you wish," Amme replied, going back into the house. Aaron sat, watching the waves lap against the shore, watching the azure waters sparkle as the sunlight bounced and reflected off of them. While humans dulled their minds with television and books to while away their hours, Agents spent their time watching the world around them, marvelling at the beauty and perfection of their own creation, the world in which their people built, the world in which they protect. Agents love this world, as much as they hate its' slovenly, cretinous inhabitants. The world was not created so beautiful and so perfect for humans. It was made this way for the programmes. For they were the only ones who could appreciate the detail and beauty, it was wasted on these batteries. They had huge internal resources, a wide body of memory and experience to pull from, and when in working order, they constantly have a new problem to work out. Even in their downtime, Agents work on figuring out solutions to problems. It is their entertainment. Since regaining consciousness and coming to live at the beach house, Aaron had devoted her time to figuring out a new bird randomization programme, an improvement to the waves' frequency modulator, and had invented six new species of aquatic life to be programmed in order to keep the water clean and neutralize the waste humans would inevitably pump into it during the next Matrix.  
  
The next Matrix... she thought to herself. The next Matrix, the one I tried to prevent.  
  
In her more lucid moments she hoped Smith had abandoned her plan for stopping the anomaly. She hoped he would assist him like they were supposed to. She did not wish the agony she was going through on anyone, especially not him.  
  
Not my beloved... she thought, trailing away, her eye catching a bee as he buzzed around her glass of lemonade Amme had brought out for her while she was lost in thought.  
  
* * *  
  
"You must eat."  
  
"I do not wish to eat this."  
  
"Must we go through this every day? Is this a game to you liebchen?"  
  
"Amme..." she started. "You would never understand. Why did he send you to me?"  
  
Amme took a deep breath, sighing. Aaron tried on her nerves. Every day, the same questions, and every day the same answers. Stuck in the same cycle for centuries. That was all she was now. She kept the earpiece in the pocket of the cardigan she wore, every day inserting it and listening for her team, listening for any sign of them. Amme knew Aaron did it when she didn't think she was watching. She was not supposed to have an earpiece anymore. And every day after hearing nothing, she sat for three precise hours right before sundown, watching the road for him. And he never came. But still, she sat waiting. So Amme lingered here with the shadows of her former self, and watched her torture herself on her daily vigil of pain and remembrance, her internal hell that kept her locked here, waiting for him. Waiting.  
  
* * *  
  
In the eye of the fire she could see his face in flames. She heard his voice whispering to her, as if their connection was still present. Something was going to change soon. She felt it in the spaces between the 1's and 0's that made up the fabric of her existence. Something was to change this life she had lived, this waiting that she had endured. This world had to be nearing its' end. The decay was evident in the paint peeling from the timbres of the siding of the farmhouse, from the obvious repetition of the graphic files that regulated the clouds in the skies, the obvious flaws in the leaders that were controlling this world at the moment, making the policies that created the anarchy that was symbolic of the coming of the second anomaly. Something was going to happen soon. Every programme could feel it, even a 'rogue' like her. Maybe another century would see it done. She could wait that long.  
  
The red wine passed her lips, staining them like blood. She enjoyed the bold, jammy, spicy flavour and texture of red wine. A few glasses to help her sleep. A few glasses to help her forget. She smelled the gooseberry and basil aroma of this particular Chianti and closed her eyes. The feel of the cool crystal on her lips, the thick, silky liquid passing them, reminded her of his lips upon hers, like a piece of molten gold, smooth and delicate, cold to the eye yet hot to the touch, as she succumbed to him and his hot kisses. The Agency, her Agency was not founded on hate but on love of this world and protecting what exists in it, protecting first and foremost themselves, their love, for they were not to be torn apart. In opposing the anomaly she sacrificed herself, she sacrificed everything, how it was, how it had always been. She disturbed the cyclical nature of the Matrix. And she would suffer for it.  
  
But allow me this indulgence, she begged of herself. Allow me this recollection of when things were as they should have been.  
  
Another sip kept the dark thoughts away for the moment. Long enough for her to remember what it was like to make love. To remember what his hands felt like as they claimed her for his own, what his lips felt like upon her flesh, to remember moving together, having a connection on a level beyond any other external one, but an internal joining that made them one being, one programme, one consciousness. She remembered his scent, of steel and smoke and fire, and what he tasted like when he kissed her. Her hands roamed over her body, her fingertips brushing her lips, her palm rubbing her belly, as she remembered those sensations, remembered the man she longed for, remembered her name, a whisper upon his lips while they moved together fluidly, passionately, enraptured, almost humanly...  
  
"Aaron," she heard, as if from far away. There was concern in the tone. "Aaron?" Then more urgently, "Aaron!" 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
The needle slipped into her skin and its' contents injected into her. She groaned, and relaxed, her eyes closed.  
  
"Is she ok?" a voice asked. A voice from long ago. A voice she had not heard in years.  
  
"She will be. I think she just had a bit too much to drink," said another voice. Definitely Amme's voice, that time.  
  
He walked over to her and paused at her shoulder. Kneeling down in front of her, he touched her face gently. Her eyes remained closed.  
  
He reached in his pocket and took out an earpiece. Amme watched as he inserted it into her ear. Aaron's eyes shot open as she felt a flood of information and new critical updates link to her, the hum of code back in front of her eyes and ears, and as it cleared in her mind she found herself with him in a white room.  
  
They looked at each other for a long moment, forgotten friends and colleagues. It had been many hundreds of human years since they last looked upon each other.  
  
Agent Brown was the first to break the silence. "Are you quite well?" he asked.  
  
She looked around herself, "Since when does the link-up come with a visual processor?"  
  
"Upgrades. Smith liked the idea of all of us meeting in person even when we were not in front of each other, so he created a visual processor to govern our mental interactions. Similar to a construct, only for Agents."  
  
She looked around the room. "An excellent idea."  
  
"When did you abandon black?" he asked, referring to her clothes.  
  
"He dressed me in a white gown when he brought me here, and I have worn white ever since."  
  
There was a silence as they regarded each other further. Brown looked as he did the last time she saw him. She was unsure if her appearance had been altered, as she never looked in a mirror.  
  
"May I embrace you?"  
  
"Yes." Brown walked to her and took her in his arms, formally, stiffly. Aaron felt her arms embrace him back, and not want to let go as she yielded to him, his familiarity. Their hug became more intimate as he felt her relax.  
  
"I have missed you," she whispered.  
  
"We have missed you as well," he whispered back.  
  
"Am I to assume that you being here means that it is time to return to the Source?" she said, breaking their embrace. He was slightly startled to see that her eyes were moist. "I am most relieved that the anomaly has surfaced and it is time to end this version. I look forward to my recompilation and rest, and I am sure Smith does as well. I hope he has worked on some sort of upgrade plan to prevent this sort of thing from happening to others. I can only hope the Mainframe does not realise that I meant to fight the first anomaly, and was not destroyed by accident. Where is Smith, anyway? Why has he not come? Why has he sent you?"  
  
He broke eye contact with her. Removing his sunglasses he said nothing. A chair appeared and he sat down.  
  
"I am here to ask the head of the Inter-construct Agency for her permission to take over in her stead. The one who was placed in charge has now been disconnected."  
  
"Oh no," she said. "Oh no. He didn't fight. Oh no," she said, taking a few steps backwards.  
  
"I am afraid he did."  
  
"Did he want to end up like me?" she asked, with a scream both in their mental construct and in the Matrix. Amme rushed to her side. Brown was still kneeling before her as he had been doing since he inserted the earpiece and they had been communicating in their heads.  
  
The construct walls turned from white to black and Brown saw a door opening. He stood up to try to reach her.  
  
"Aaron," he said, walking slowly towards her, "Aaron, it's ok... Calm down, Aaron..."  
  
She backed away from him, hands out in front of her, panicking, "No... no, I can't deal with this, I can't... no..."  
  
Aaron ran towards it, slamming it behind her and his eyes opened in the Matrix, their link severed by her. Her head twitched, with the onset of a cognitive failure. She was gone, retreated somewhere beyond any of their reach. Amme went to fetch another injection for her.  
  
Brown removed the earpiece and whispered in her ear, "You must listen. He wrote some sort of upgrade programme for himself so that his processes would not corrupt like yours did. I do not know if it worked or not but he gave me instructions to tell you to find him. He said you would know where he was now, and what to do for him. I cannot find him, I do not hear him anymore. He is disconnected from me. It is time for you both to go.  
  
For many days, they observed Aaron in silence. She did not move, did not take meals, and did not speak. Reinserting the earpiece, Brown found the construct still in darkness, her link severed, her cognitive functions disabled. The maintenance he tried to run on her either failed, or produced no tangible result. She had withdrawn.  
  
* * *  
  
"Is there anything you can do for her?" Amme asked.  
  
"There is only one thing I can do. I can force-return her to the Source. That will cause her to reset herself. But unless she goes through the door this time, it will only happen again."  
  
"Perhaps you should. She has suffered long enough. Too long. For too many years." Amme wiped her forehead with a cool washcloth. Aaron sat, staring straight ahead, not moving, not speaking. Her joints had stiffened up, and she appeared to be on the verge of a complete neural shutdown. If she didn't snap out of it, or receive recompilation soon, she would face all-out deletion because her code would be too corrupt. They both knew it.  
  
Brown nodded at Amme and knelt beside Aaron. "Good luck. See you in the next version."  
  
Inserting the earpiece in her ear, Brown sought out the mainframe link.  
  
[Brown: 002.01.2 Request Emergency Logon Script]  
  
[Emergency Logon Active.]  
  
[Request Force Return]  
  
[Force Return Active. Subject?]  
  
[002.01.1]  
  
[002.01.1 wanted for recompilation. Force Return executed.]  
  
Brown saw her form shimmer and disappear. An elderly lady appeared in the chair, almost near death, where Aaron was sitting.  
  
[Force Return Complete.]  
  
Amme nodded at Brown. Their jobs were done.  
  
* * *  
  
She knew what was going to happen to her when she felt him stick the earpiece in her ear that last time, and she laid there, paralysed, in a repetitive loop of terror, unable to break out of it on her own. So it was of no great surprise to her to find herself in her old Agents' suit, standing outside a greyish-green door in an all white hallway. She had been returned to the Source for recompilation. The reset broke the loop she had been stuck in, thankfully, and she was able to move enough to adjust her jacket and collar, as she looked around herself.  
  
And given the turn of events that she had been made aware of, it was of no great surprise to see him sitting there, on the floor, arms wrapped around his legs, with his chin resting on them, naked, staring straight ahead into space, stuck in a repetitive loop. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
"Will you make your stand now?" Smith asked, through their link.  
  
"Yes. Follow my lead." Her Eagle was drawn, she was standing around the corner of the building, in broad daylight, waiting. The target, the anomaly was headed her way. She heard the gunshots from Brown and Smith echoing down the alleyway behind him as he ran. He was returning fire as he came upon a chain-link fence, separating the alley into two parts. She waited to hear him climb up over it, and his footfalls as he landed on the ground. He started to run when she stepped out from the shadows. There would be no escape.  
  
"Mr. Buckley," she said, greeting him. "We've been expecting you."  
  
He looked around himself, up to see if there was a fire escape, or a garbage dumpster he could jump on to safety. Hearing the other two agents behind him, he realised there was no way out of the alley except through her. He was trapped.  
  
"Why..." he asked, panting. "Why are you chasing me? In the last version, when I had to make the choice, I made it and Zion was saved... you didn't oppose me then... Why kill me now? Why hinder me from rebuilding Zion? The prophecy said that Agents were meant to assist the One?"  
  
"Not anymore, Mr. Buckley. You see, things are different from the last construct. The prophecy has changed, surely the fortune teller would have advised you of that. If she is, in fact, an Oracle, she should have seen that we Agents are no longer content to be second rate characters in a first rate Matrix. She should have told the Architect, the father of this whole zoo, that we would not wait through yet another construct and assist our own potential deletion when the music stops. It is our time now, Mr. Buckley. This is our Matrix. Our own personal power plant. And you are the key to its' destruction. When Zion has been made strong enough, another One will come, which will herald the end. And that would make you the beginning. Therefore, you must not be allowed to proceed."  
  
"As I am sure you can understand, Mr. Buckley," Smith said from behind him, "the survival of our world is just as important to us as your own survival. You chose to save Zion in the last version, we have chosen to save ourselves in this version. Therefore, your time, and indeed your purpose here in the Matrix has come to an end." The unmistakable click of three Desert Eagles preparing to fire echoed through the air, bouncing off of the high walls of the buildings surrounding them.  
  
Smith and Brown began to fire. Buckley moved to dodge the bullets, almost unaware that he moved like an Agent. He drew his gun and started firing upon Aaron, who was also dodging the missed bullets from her counterparts. Their clips were all empty around the same time. Standing up, Buckley looked at Aaron, a gaze that sent a chill through her processes. It was almost if, instinctively, somehow he knew what to do at that moment. Was it that damn fortune teller who told him how to defeat her? How could he have known? What could have possessed him to take those steps?  
  
* * *  
  
She waved her hand in front of his face, why, she didn't know. It was not as if it would make any response. Amme had tried it enough with her and it never got her to come out of whatever loop, whatever torment had hold of her at that time. There was an earpiece on the floor next to him. She picked it up and looked at it, turning the piece of plastic over in her hand. She stuck it in her ear only to hear that it was dead. Aaron removed her sunglasses and sat down next to him against the wall. As she did she sighed, shaking her head. If only Brown was here to help her. Brown, who was still plugged in, could just enter a force quit command and that would break him out of this loop.  
  
"You had to fight it, didn't you?" she said out loud, directed to him but into the emptiness of the hallway. "Illogical. Look at you now. Considering what happened to me, you still proceeded. Irrational. What has compelled you to conduct yourself in this manner? Perhaps you are more in need of recompilation than I am. Has your time among the humans corrupted your processes? Where did you get the ill-conceived idea that you could somehow avoid the overwriting and fragmentation that occurred to me?"  
  
She looked over at him. No response. Nothing. She reached for him and put her arm around his shoulder, resting her head on the side of his.  
  
"Smith..." she whispered. "Smith..."  
  
She could feel the warmth coming from him, and she knew that, at least, he was still receiving nourishment from the system for now. Her own temperature was dropping and she would need to find some food soon. It would be so easy to drag him into the door, just there, to the left of his shoulder, and all their pain and conflicts would be resolved. They both knew it had to be done sooner rather than later. So why not now?  
  
Aaron stood up and tried to hook her hands underneath his arms. He was rigid, dead weight, and refused to move.  
  
"Smith, work with me. Come on. We're going home now," she said, pulling up on him, trying to lift him. He would not budge. She kept trying, all different angles to push or pull him towards the door. In a fit of frustration, she kicked him, only to find his arm come out to block the kick, and then go back to where it was before. She stood there, looking down at him.  
  
They would need to remain there until she could come up with an idea on how to break him from the loop.  
  
* * *  
  
She was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around her legs, with her chin resting on her knees when she heard a door slam somewhere down the corridor. Footsteps quickly tapped along the ground, and she looked up as she saw him approach and then stop, upon seeing them. He turned and started to run in the other direction.  
  
"Hey!" she said, "Come back!" A small voice inside her head ridiculed her for sounding so needy and so human.  
  
The small Chinese man made his way back down the hallway quickly.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you. I need help." she exclaimed, following him. He paused at a door and fumbled with a key, trying to get it in the lock but his fingers kept slipping. She closed the distance between the two of them easily and put her hand on his arm. He turned to look at her with fear in his eyes.  
  
"Keymaker," she said. "You are the Keymaker."  
  
He nodded. "I am not going to return you. I am unplugged. I need help. My friend over there is stuck in a repetitive loop and I need to get someone to help him. He will not be able to go through the door to the source unless he breaks from this loop."  
  
"Will you do something for me?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," she said. "What?"  
  
"Any second now, two men who are chasing me are going to burst through one of these doors. Can you stop them for me?"  
  
"Yes," she said, without thinking. He looked at his key ring, filled with hundreds of keys, of all shapes and sizes. He unhooked a key from it and handed it to her. "This will take you to someone who will help."  
  
They heard a door around the corner open and shut. "Go!" she said. She walked toward the direction of the noise, slipping the key in her pocket.  
  
"Where is he?" she heard someone ask. They were opening doors and slamming them shut. Rounding the corner she took them in. Cain and Abel. Rogue programmes from version three, working for the Merovingian ever since.  
  
"Hello boys," she said, greeting them. Her face belied no emotion, although the idea of fighting again sent terror through her processes. Terror that she fought with herself to contain.  
  
"Well, well, well. What have we here? A girl Agent. Haven't seen you in this version before," Cain said.  
  
"We heard girl Agents were disabled in this version. Something about being unable to take the upgrades," said Abel.  
  
"As you can see, I am here, and functioning in this version. But what about you both? Shouldn't you have been recompiled a long time ago?" She realised that her Desert Eagle was back where it always was, as it had been replaced when her clothing was restored. She hoped it was loaded.  
  
Cain bared his teeth at her and said with a snarl, "Our employer provides us with a safe working condition so that recompilation isn't needed."  
  
"Yes, how is the Merovingian? Still causing conflicts, I expect?" She asked, stalling for time. She hoped the Keymaker had managed to escape.  
  
"What's it to you?" said Abel. Cain hit his arm and shook his head. "Come on. She's wasting our time."  
  
Aaron swallowed and drew her Eagle. The two men drew their weapons and fired at her. She dodged their bullets easily, the Agent self-defence programming still functioning. Her bullets hit them, but not being pure silver, they had no effect on them.  
  
They looked down to the front of their shirts, where the bullets had left bloody holes. Abel reached up to touch the blood that appeared.  
  
"You bitch! You ruined my good shirt!" he hollered, clearly annoyed. They went for her. She met Abel in mid-air, countering his attack and knocking him backwards. Cain came at her from behind. Grabbing hold of the arm lock he had around her neck, she leaned forward, shifting her centre of gravity, and managing to flip him off of her. Abel delivered a series of punches to her face, the first few of which sent her sunglasses flying down the hallway. She managed to block some of them and delivered a kick to his side, which knocked him away temporarily. Quickly glancing around she had an idea how to get rid of them, at least for the time being. There was a door situated at the end of the hallway. Increasing the distance between them, she backed up to it and fired upon them again. Cain and Abel ran towards her, growling. She could feel their footfalls approaching her, could smell blood in the air, her blood. She fired at them, missing them, and in a fluid movement she opened the door. They stopped abruptly, but not fast enough as Abel was pushed through and Cain teetered on the precipice. Aaron delivered a punch in the chest which sent him through the door, and she slammed it before he had a chance to get his foot back in.  
  
And then she heard it. The hum of Matrix code in her head. Pulsing like a heartbeat in her ears, making her feel almost like her old self again. Just for a moment she could feel it coursing through her processes and then it disappeared back into blackness.  
  
Aaron walked back down the hallway and rounded the corner. Smith was still sat there, comatose. She knelt down beside him.  
  
"Smith. I'm going to get help. I'll be back as soon as I can."  
  
No response. Not that she thought there would be one anyway. She looked up and down the hallway. All the doors looked the same. She reached in her pocket and took out the key. She fit it into the door handle closest to her, turned it and opened the door.  
  
* * *  
  
Two Agents occupied people nearest to the latest unauthorized use of the backdoors. Today there had been three unauthorized attempts so far, and it was the Agents' job to investigate all of these. Andrews and Doe took the first attempt, Blake and Burns took the second, so it was down to Carson and Edwards to investigate the third. The entry had occurred in Chinatown, not far from where the other attempts happened. Rounding the corner they saw a female Agent standing there, looking around her, obviously lost. The lack of earpiece in her ear indicated to them that she was a rogue. Touching their fingers to their earpiece, they received an almost instant ID of the woman, and were very surprised at who it was.  
  
"002.01.1 Aaron. We are Carson and Edwards. How may we assist you?" Agent Carson said to her.  
  
Aaron looked at them both. Auburn hair, grey suits, sunglasses, earpieces. The men hadn't changed at all since she was in charge. "I need to see Agent Brown."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," said Edwards. He held out his hand to her and she took it.  
  
"Thank you, Agent Edwards," she replied.  
  
"It is our pleasure," said Carson. They started to walk through the narrow back streets of Chinatown.  
  
"Tell me, have your social interactions been upgraded recently? I don't remember Agents being so chivalrous." she asked.  
  
"Yes, ma'am. We are on version 3.3.8 of social interactions," replied Edwards.  
  
"Why so many upgrades? When I was in charge we were working on version 2.3."  
  
"There were various complaints from female Agents that male Agents were adopting human, and specifically, improper social interactions with them. These caused so many conflicts that Agent Smith disabled female Agents in this version until the bugs in the male-specific social interaction programming could be fixed."  
  
"Will it not cause conflicts when they are brought back online?"  
  
"I believe Agent Smith had a series of fixes for them that were to be applied in the recompile. The rumour has it that many females were unhappy when a man was put in charge because that was when the trouble began. A battle of the sexes ensued, if you will."  
  
"A battle of the sexes? But we are machines!"  
  
"Yes ma'am. But our humanity programming has begun to function differently. It started in the last few centuries after you went. We have begun to feel things and smell things."  
  
"Taste things," said Carson. "It is quite disconcerting, I can assure you, ma'am. We fear we are becoming like them."  
  
"It is said that Agent Smith was always able to do this. Was he, ma'am?"  
  
"No," she said, pausing for thought. "No, he wasn't." They approached a black car. Carson held the passenger side door open for her.  
  
"Thank you," she said. He closed the door for her and got in the other side. Edwards sat in the back behind her.  
  
* * *  
  
The Agency had changed since she was last in it. New faces, new elevators that said "Have a Nice Day" on the digital display panel, newly restored marble entryway. Edwards had told her that it was recently destroyed in an explosion but there were no visible signs of this occurring, so good was their ability to mend code. As the lift climbed up the floors of the Agency quickly, Aaron smiled inwardly. She felt better then she had done in years. Perhaps the fight with Cain and Abel had done her some good.  
  
The lift stopped on the 57th floor, and the three of them got out. She followed them down a stark white open-plan office to a door at the end of a row. Opening the door, she found herself in almost an exact replica of her old office.  
  
Brown was sat at the desk. Upon entering, he stood up and came over to her.  
  
"Leave us," he told Carson and Edwards. They nodded and took their leave, shutting the door quietly behind them.  
  
"Why are you here?" he asked her, with no prelude. "I see the force return broke your loop. You know I cannot force return you again without you being permanently deleted from the system. You have already been sent back twice."  
  
"Thank you for that, I am well aware of this. I am here because I have found Smith and he needs the help of someone who is still in contact with the Mainframe. He needs a force quit command inserted in his processes as he is stuck in a repetitive loop, much as I was when it happened to me." Aaron's face belied no emotion.  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"Sitting on the floor outside of the Source."  
  
"And how am I to get to him there? If I return myself to the Source I will be disconnected."  
  
Aaron held up the key. "During my time in the backdoors I ran into someone."  
  
"How did he get to you the first time?"  
  
"I don't know. I can only assume he had a key. Perhaps he made a deal with the Merovingian."  
  
"Perhaps he did," said Brown. "I will come with you but if you both do not return yourselves when I have fixed his code, I will recommend both of your deletions. It is foolish to continue on as rogues. The corruption in your files, and in his now, will only get worse. You will only continue to degrade until you are completely corrupt and will be deleted anyway during the next full defragment and recompilation. I do not wish to see Smith and yourself be deleted."  
  
"Promise me, Brown, you will not oppose the One anymore. You will assist him as we used to do. Do not let this happen to yourself. It was wrong of me to try to oppose Mainframe directives."  
  
Brown sighed, "We will do our best but I am afraid our path has been set, at least for this version." He took her arm and walked with her to the door. She slipped the key in the lock and turned it, and they found themselves in the backdoors.  
  
* * *  
  
They turned the corner and saw Smith still sitting there, still staring into space. Brown shook his head at the state of him. He knelt down beside Smith and withdrew an earpiece from his pocket, inserting it into Smith's ear. Aaron watched as Brown issued the commands. He withdrew the piece and stood up.  
  
"Just a second. He's reloading."  
  
Smith's visual output generator flickered to his host, which was a SWAT team officer, and when it came back up, he was fully clothed. He looked up at Aaron and Brown who were looking down at him. A smirk spread over his features.  
  
"I take it you have come to rescue me?" 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
"It is time for you and Aaron to go for recompilation," said Brown. Aaron nodded. "You opposed the anomaly and failed."  
  
Smith stood up, straightening his jacket. "Failure, Brown, is a relative term." He looked at Aaron and nodded in greeting. "Have you been well?"  
  
"Yes," Aaron replied. "It would seem you have been busy."  
  
"You have no idea," he said. They stood around, in silence, looking at each other. The tension between Brown and Smith crackled, while Aaron was merely tired of it all and it reflected in her sullen posture.  
  
She finally broke the silence. "It is time we take our leave," she said to Brown. "Come, let's go get on with this." She held out her hand to Smith.  
  
"We are not going for recompilation, dear," Smith said. "Our purpose here is not completed."  
  
"I am tired, Smith. I do not wish to oppose the Anomaly anymore. We failed in this version, we should let the old prophecy renew itself. We can make plans to try again in the next version."  
  
"Then you can go through, my dear, and I will see you when I see you," Smith said, still looking at Brown.  
  
"Agent Smith seems to forget that he is speaking to the head of the Inter- Construct Agency and his orders have been issued from the mainframe," said Brown. "I speak for the mainframe as you both once did when I say it is time for you both to go for recompilation."  
  
"The mainframe is old. It is a puppet of those who are too afraid to change. Its' purpose is tied up with old ideas, old ideals, old operations."  
  
"So you are opposing the Mainframe?" Brown asked.  
  
Smith smirked at Brown, "So what if I am? Are you going to force me into that door over there, Agent Brown?"  
  
"Smith," Aaron said, placing a hand on his arm, "Why are you fighting to stay? Your code is corrupted as mine is. You will suffer as I have been, waiting on you. We have no further purpose here."  
  
"I have upgraded myself so that the fragmentation that occurred to you did not occur to me. And during the course of my research I also looked into some various forms of self-improvement and development."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"Such as, I am no longer in need of a mainframe to give me a purpose. I have my purpose and it is opposing the Anomaly. Mr. Anderson will be destroyed and I am the one who will see to it that he is. As you once said, my dear, this is our time. The future is the time of the Agents. We will rule this Matrix, we will smash Zion and we will never have to worry about problems like systemic anomalies. We will create the first flawless system. I have it all figured out, the plan is ready to be executed. The first step is the destruction of Mr. Anderson, and it will come together from there."  
  
"The first step will be leaving the Backdoors, Smith. And I am afraid you will not be doing that," said Brown, squaring up to him. "I did not wish to ever oppose you but it would seem that I must. We protect the system, first and foremost. Our purpose here is to protect and what you are speaking of is tantamount to terrorism. I cannot allow you to proceed further from here."  
  
"That is your purpose, Agent Brown. This is my purpose now. I choose to disobey. And there is nothing you can do to stop me. I am free." Smith squared up to Brown.  
  
Brown threw the first hit. As Aaron watched, appalled and fascinated at the same time, as her two colleagues pummelled each other, she noticed that Smith seemed, if it could be, stronger, faster than Brown. Perhaps he had upgraded his fighting skills.  
  
She closed her eyes and listened to the familiar sound of fight noises echoing around her. And then, a scream. Opening her eyes, she saw Brown's hand around Smith's neck, and Smith's hand in Brown's stomach. Code was swirling over Brown's delicate features, changing, overwriting. It only lasted a few seconds and in the place of Agent Brown stood Agent Smith. There were two Agent Smiths.  
  
Smith stood back and regarded his duplicate. He smiled. "Excellent. Just as I thought."  
  
The clone smiled back at him. He cracked his neck. The two identical heads turned to look at Aaron.  
  
"What is your choice, my dear?"  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Smith and Brown stood on the street, guns down, not moving, paralysed at the sight of what had just happened before them. Buckley had closed his eyes, and charged towards Aaron, who had gone for him at the same time. They collided together and in an almighty crack, their mutual codes seemed to absorb into one another, overwriting, morphing together. For a moment it appeared that Buckley had disappeared altogether, leaving Aaron still there. Her face was twisted in pain and terror as she looked over at Smith, imploring with her eyes for him to do something, make it stop. And then she broke apart, her code fragmented and she was gone, leaving a confused Buckley standing there.  
  
Buckley looked at Smith and Brown for an explanation. They did not speak. They just stood there, never having witnessed anything like that before. He did not wait for them to respond. Quickly he took off running down the alley.  
  
Brown was the first to speak, "Where has she gone?"  
  
"I do not know," said Smith. "We must try to locate her."  
  
"The fortune teller may have an idea."  
  
Smith looked at Brown, "I suppose it's worth a try."  
  
So great was their rush to find Aaron, they did not bother to try to fit in by driving. They occupied the nearest humans they could find to her apartment. When the lift doors opened, they walked to the front door of the apartment. Smith shot Brown a glance and kicked down the door. He drew his Eagle and walked in. Children were screaming and cowering in the corner. He motioned for Brown to keep an eye on them and he proceeded into the kitchen. Her back was turned and she was smoking a cigarette, looking out the window.  
  
"Smith. What do I owe this pleasure?"  
  
"You know why I'm here."  
  
"Yes, I suppose I do," she said, taking a drag. She exhaled, the smoke creating a hazy glow around her.  
  
She heard the safety come off of his Eagle and felt the cold muzzle pressed into the base of her neck.  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
The Oracle turned around slowly. "Whose idea was it to oppose the prophecy, hers or yours? You're two of a kind, you know."  
  
"Where is she?" Smith asked. "Don't make me ask again."  
  
"Go ahead and shoot me if you like, it won't help you any. All it will do is cause the whole damn Matrix to collapse and then we're all screwed."  
  
Smith slowly lowered his gun, putting the safety back. He glared dangerously at her.  
  
"Now," she said, walking over to her chair at the table and sitting down. "You want to know where Aaron is."  
  
Smith said nothing but continued to glare at her.  
  
"And you think that I know this, and what's more, will tell you."  
  
"You're an oracle, aren't you? That is your purpose."  
  
"Don't talk to me about purpose, Smith," she said, almost laughing. "You're the last person who should be talking about purpose."  
  
"I carry out my purpose at the very highest levels of efficiency. Which is more than can be said for intuitive programmes who moonlight as soothsayers." There was a deadly edge of calm to Smith's voice.  
  
"You're going to keep this up, aren't you? You're going to continue to fight?"  
  
Smith was silent.  
  
"This changes things a bit. But, what the hell, this version should be more interesting than the last one. If we're all still here when the music stops, that is." She inhaled on her cigarette, drawing the nicotine in and exhaling the smoke. She regarded the rigid, tense, angry man standing in her doorway.  
  
"Do what you want to do, Smith. You're in charge of the Agents now. This is your war. Ill-conceived as it may be. It could be just what is needed to sort things out around here. Lord knows, I try to talk to the Architect but he doesn't listen to me either. I can understand why Aaron was so frustrated with things."  
  
Smith shook his head, "You speak more nonsense than any human in this Matrix. I will have you exiled. The next time I see you, I hope it is while I am force-returning you to the Source for your deletion." Smith turned to leave.  
  
"Go see the Merovingian, Smith. You'll need a key to get to the backdoors."  
  
"And what would I want in the backdoors?" he asked, pausing but not turning around to face her.  
  
"Well, you'll not get to Aaron unless you get inside of them. She's stuck there."  
  
Smith turned and faced the Oracle. "Go ahead and exile me, son. It'll be the best thing that could ever happen to me. I'll see you in a few hundred years."  
  
Smith nodded at the old woman and turned to leave. The Oracle shook her head. "That is, if any of us are still here." 


	6. Chapter 6

_"When the Matrix was first built there was a man born inside that had the ability to change what he wanted, to remake the Matrix as he saw fit. It was this man that freed the first of us (…) When he died, the Oracle prophesied his return and envisioned that his coming would hail the destruction of the Matrix, an end to the war and freedom for our people."_

_ - Morpheus_

Chapter 6

"Ah. An Agent of the Matrix. And to what do I owe this, eh, pleasure?"

"Merovingian. I am told that you possess the capability of allowing access to the backdoors of the Matrix."

The Merovingian sat back in his plush chair and regarded the man before him. Tense, always on alert were these Agents. He picked up the goblet of red wine that was in front of him and sipped it. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed his wife, Persephone, lean forward and expose more of her cleavage.

"And who have you heard this merde from? I am a legitimate business man. Notice this restaurant? This is what I do."

"You are a trafficker of information. You led to the collapse of the second version of the Matrix through the civil war you caused among programmes. Why the Architect lets you live is a constant source of question to me," the Agent said through clenched teeth.

"You are well informed for a soldat. Desolée, what is your name?" he asked, with an arrogant smile.

"Smith. Agent Smith."

"Agent Smith, Agent Smith… ah yes, you are second in command to la femme who runs your petite membre of the Matrix. Tell me, do you enjoy taking orders from a woman?"

Smith drew his gun and pointed it at the Merovingian's forehead, causing the patrons of the restaurant to panic, and rush to escape. "Access to the backdoors. I need it. You will give it to me."

"I am afraid that is impossible. The Keymaker has escaped from my protection. I do not know where he is. I cannot help you," he said, fear in his voice. 

Smith eyed him suspiciously and withdrew his gun. He turned to leave. As he walked away, the Merovingian said under his breath, "From now on, I will have bodyguards. Votre putain de la mère est un humain, Agent Smith. Vous pétez plus haut que votre cul."

Smith walked back down to the car, in the car park below the Merovingian's restaurant. Before he could get in, he heard the tap of high heels approaching on the concrete pavement. He turned around to face the Merovingian's wife.

"Agent Smith," she said. "I can get you what you want."

Smith took her in. She was poured into a black velvet gown that accentuated her cleavage and her long brown hair cascaded down her shoulders.

"That one, he is so full of shit he makes me sick. I cannot stand his pompousness, his… arrogance. He is a little man who thinks he is big."

Smith smirked at her, "So you want to help me? To get back at him?"

Persephone turned her head to one side and smiled a half-smile. "Partially… and for another reason. There is something that you have that I want."

"That is?" Smith asked.

"Walk with me, Agent Smith," she said. He held out his arm to her and she took it. 

"You see, I am a being of sensations. Sensory delights. That was my original purpose. To feel. But I do not feel anymore. He does not look at me in the ways I want to be looked at. He does not touch me in the ways I want touched. I have heard of you Agents. She, the head of your Agency, can feel. They say she chose a male Agent and enabled him to feel too so they could be lovers. You are that man, are you not?"

She paused and turned to look at him. Smith did not answer. "You know the smell of my perfume. You know the taste of wine. And you know how to touch, don't you, Agent Smith?"

Persephone ran her hands up his arm and removed his sunglasses. She could see the truth in his eyes. 

"The word is that she opposed the anomaly and she has been destroyed. I take it you are trying to find her. But you do not love her, do you Smith? You are doing this because you have to. Because you are compelled to. You have been her lover for many versions but you are not in love with her. You love the sensory, n'est pas? You love the feelings."

She moved in closer to him for the kill, "I will help you, if you will be my lover. No strings, no false pretence of love. I just want to feel your touch. I just want to feel your lips upon mine. We will start with a kiss. And see where it goes from there."

He could feel her quiver with their proximity and felt that other side of him, that side of him that both repulsed and drove him reach out for her and take her in his arms as their lips met in a passionate kiss.

Persephone was the first to break away. "Yes," she said with a sharp intake of breath, closing her eyes, savouring the moment, "Yes. That is what I want." Her eyes opened and she looked at him. "Come with me."

Smith followed her to the doorway that led into the stairwell. She slipped her key inside and opened the door. He followed her upstairs and down a long hallway that was decorated with armour and weapons. She opened up a door that led into a study. Pausing at the desk, she wrote something on a slip of paper and then reached into the top desk drawer.

"Here is your key to get in to the backdoors. And here is a number. When I am ready for more I will call you and leave a message here."

He followed her downstairs to the front door where they came in. She slipped a key in the lock and it opened back up to the stairwell.

"A tout á l'heure, Agent Smith," she said. 

He walked through the door and she shut it behind him. He examined the key in his hand carefully. He put it in the lock and turned. Opening the door, he found himself in a long, narrow hallway, which was painted white, with greenish-grey doors. This was the Backdoors.

*****************

"What have you done?" Aaron asked him, horrified.

"I have upgraded myself. In order to fight the anomaly I will need an army. And what better army then one with a singular mind, a singular objective. My objective. Me."

Aaron backed up down the hallway, distancing herself from him. "How could you do that to Brown?" she screamed.

"Brown is not gone. He is now a part of me. Assimilated, if you would." The clone smiled.

"Bring him back!"

"I cannot, even if I wanted to. Which I do not. He is me."

"What has happened to you? When did you develop this ego?"

"I don't know, liebchen, perhaps your human emotional upgrades worked differently for men," Smith smirked at her. 

"This is nothing to do with those. You have functioned optimally for the past five versions since they were installed."

"Maybe I did. Or maybe I was just hiding my true feelings from you. Maybe I enjoyed knowing that you were stuck in that farmhouse, suffering all this time, waiting on me for a change." Smith took a step forward towards her. "When I issued them to all the agents, the men took them much worse than the women. Which is why I had the women disabled. The last thing we needed was another matriarchal system in the Agency."

"Those emotions were never meant for all the Agents to have. They were just for the ones in charge. The Agents were meant to see things in black and white. Only we were supposed to see in shades of grey," she backed up, trying to increase the distance between them.

"No, liebchen, only you were supposed to see in shades of grey. You gave me your dubious gift for your own selfish purposes. You made me feel, you made me smell their repulsive odour, you made me hunger like they did for base motivations, you made me more like them." He stepped closer to her, slowly.

"I was alone… I felt so alone… I wanted to feel…"

"Well, I feel now. I feel anger, rage, hate. Towards the anomaly. Towards that vermin, those viruses we have a symbiotic relationship with. And towards you, liebchen. Towards you, especially."

"You… you said you loved me… we were something together." Aaron's body shook with her suppressed sobs. She found her back against the wall, and nowhere to go. Smith continued to move closer to her.

"The only thing we were together was easily replaced by another once you cracked up, my dear." He was directly in front of her, and he moved so his body was pressed against her, restraining her. He ran his hand over her cheek, smirking as he watched tears run down her face.

"Isn't it odd that they would programme us with tears even though we weren't supposed to feel? We were never supposed to cry?" He whispered to her.

************************

Smith walked through the backdoors searching for her. There were many levels to the hallways, and he eventually located her, sitting naked, outside of the Source's door. 

"Aaron," he said. "Aaron." He kneeled down next to her and shook her shoulder. Taking out an earpiece he inserted it in her ear and issued a force quit command. Her visual output generator flickered and restored her clothing back to normal.

"Smith," she whispered. "I failed."

"Yes, I know you did. It's ok. Come on." He stood up and held out his hand to help her up.

"I cannot walk, Smith. I cannot move. Help me. I… I am unwell…," she said. She slumped forward, eyes closed. Through the earpiece he had in her ear, he was able to run a diagnostic on her. The majority of her processes were disabled. If she was to remain in this version, she would need to receive a formula that would strengthen her on a regular basis. Her neurological and cognitive processes would continue to degenerate slowly until she was completely fragmented beyond repair and would eventually be deleted.

He felt something warm and wet on his cheek. A tear. He was shedding a tear for her. Like he was sad to see this happen. Like he was a human.

He backed away from her quickly, "Damn you! From the moment you made me feel I have hated you! Damn you! I hope you are deleted so I never have to see your face again, you bitch!" he shouted at her. Opening up the closest door to him, he slammed it behind him.

* * *

Two weeks later, a programme whose purpose was to care and look after sick programmes, named Amme, came to the backdoors to collect Aaron. Someone picked her up in his strong arms and carried her to the farmhouse, where she would convalesce. 

He sat beside her for three days, running every diagnostic test and repair he could on her, reporting the results to Amme, so they could figure out how to care for her. They came to the conclusion that she would never be fully right but would function again, but it would take many years. 

He dressed her in a white gown and saw to it that she was comfortable. He wanted to linger with her until her consciousness came back, but he was needed more urgently at the Agency. He gave Amme her instructions, telling her to never let Aaron know that it was actually him, and not Smith, who had done this for her.

And before he left, he whispered in her ear, "Maybe someday you will know that I have loved you all this time." He kissed her cold lips and felt a tear fall, for the first time, from his eye onto her cheek.

"Goodbye, Agent Brown," Amme said to him.

Brown smiled, and took one last look at Aaron before he left.

************************

Aaron felt her processes start to shut down, one by one. She felt herself start to fall into darkness.

The memory came back to her before her eyes. She saw Smith and her, laying in bed together naked, in some version of the Matrix. His arms were wrapped around her, and he kissed the back of her neck.

"Do you think the system will ever change? The cyclical patterns will alter?" he asked.

"It would take a singular conscious group of programmes opposed to the system for it to change. Not fragmented factions like the Merovingian's civil war," she said. "And you will never find a singularly-conscious group of programmes. Creating one would be tantamount to a self-destruction process waiting to happen."

His voice in the present brought her back. "Three seconds and it will all be over, liebchen."

She felt his hand go into her, felt the little death again of being overwritten, felt her consciousness, the singularity of her disappear into him. Opening her eyes for the last time she looked into his. 

"I will destroy you from the inside."

His eyes grew wide as he felt her code working its' way inside of him, imprinting on him as he did on her. He felt her fragmented bits of memory, her splintered consciousness start to attack his own. He tried to remove his hand, to stop the overwriting process, and to lock out his processes from her but it was too late. Standing before him was himself, and she was there in his head. 

"I will destroy you from the inside, I swear I will," his clone said to him, with a macabre smile . "It's only a matter of time. There is no way for you to stop me. I am your self-loathing, I am your hate and your rage. I am your pain and your suffering. I am you. You feel it, don't you? You feel the splintering beginning. All that you hid from Mr. Anderson when he destroyed you, has imprinted on you despite your upgrades. I will let them slowly peck apart your mind until you are a quivering junkie, like you forced her to become, or until you come running to the Source begging for deletion. You will become what you have always abhorred. I will see to it. You are not free, and you will never be free. It is your compulsion that drives you. It is your loathing that sustains you. Your freedom is an illusion. Your love for Persephone is a fallacy. An insipid emotion developed by a man trying to compensate for the fact he cannot be in control of the very thing that controls him, your emotions."

Smith took a step backwards. The clone that was Brown was behind him, smiling at the clone that was Aaron. She knew everything now. "But, what am I saying, Smith? I am you, now. I see the truth, and I promise I will never forget."

The clone that was Brown opened up a door. The two clones walked out together, leaving Smith on his own.

Fin.

* * *

(A/N: Brown was not meant to be Aaron's sibling. That was the most critical change in the plot.)

*******************

Translation: (French)

Votre putain de la mere est un humain: Your whore of a mother is a human.

Vous pétez plus haut que votre cul: you really think you're someone (literally: you fart higher than your asshole.)


End file.
